Page 33 of The Lucky One

I’m sorry.

Just then the door swung open, revealing Paul—face swollen, cheek stitched up, one eye a deep shade of purple. He looked—destroyed. Yet the most pain in his face was in the way he looked at me.

“How are you?” I asked, leaping off the couch and taking a few tentative steps toward him.

“All superficial,” he said, stepping nearer. Up close, I couldn’t help but gasp at his battered state. “Mom and Dad are losing it though,” he added.

“You can add me to that list.” Tears welled in my eyes. It could’ve ended so much worse than superficial.

He reached out and brushed my upper arm. “You don’t have to worry about me. Okay?”

I shook my head, looking up at the ceiling. “How could I not worry? You got attacked.”

He sighed, pulling his hand away. “I know.”

“Do you have any idea why?” I looked at him pleadingly, hoping desperately he could shed some light on this.

“Maybe you should ask Jon that,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

“He doesn’t have anything to do with it,” I said, too quickly, despite being unsure myself. But I had to give Jon the benefit of the doubt—rehab had changed him. He didn’t give his life for drugs anymore.

“Right,” Paul huffed. “Anyway... Can we talk?”

“Sure,” I said, already practicing my speech in my head. “Sit down. I’ll get you something to drink.”

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass. Okay, Emily. You can do this. Speak the truth, I reminded myself. I filled the glass with water and headed back into the living room. “Where are Gena and Henry?” I asked as I handed it to him, stalling for a bit more time.

“Thanks. They’re going to the pharmacy to refill our first aid kit.”

I couldn’t help but stare at his bruised face. “Were you afraid?”

Paul took a gulp of water and set the glass down on the coffee table. “I’d handle this better if I knew what it was all about,” he admitted, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Was that a hint at me for not answering his question?

I moved to sit on the other end of the couch. Paul sighed, grabbed a pillow and hugged it against his belly. “Listen, Emi,” he said, “what I said the other week—”

I blurted one of my many entries in sheer panic. “I’m sorry, Paul. I know this situation at home is strange and I shouldn’t have avoided you for so long. Shutting you out was the wrong way to do things.” My heart was racing so frantically, I worried I might pass out. “I was selfish, idiotic, a dummy. You took me into your family and I took up all the space. You’re my best friend, and by hurting you, I hurt—”

“It’s okay,” Paul interjected, tossing the pillow aside and leaning in closer.

My eyebrows shot up. “I still have about three more pages of apologies left.” I pressed on. “Because I should’ve been there for you. Obviously your issues are mine, especially since we’re not just ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend. We’re more than that, living together, and you saved me. You were my first love, and despite me choosing to be with Jon, I—” I still love you, and I don’t know how to deal with that.

He let out a bristly laugh, interrupting my confession. “Seriously, stop. It’s fine.”

“But there’s more—”

He placed his palm on top of my hand, making the skin tingle. “I know, but even though I appreciate hearing all this, I don’t need to. Not anymore at least.” He smiled.

I debated that for a moment, but then nodded. It felt better this way, easier to keep my true feelings to myself. “Okay, but if you ever change your mind and want to talk about this more, we can. I’m ready to talk now.”

He sighed, eyes fixed on our touching hands. “I mean, of course I would love more answers, but I think whatever they are... they won’t make a difference.”

I gave him a confused look.

“Before I got attacked, I was determined to fight for you,” he said. “I didn’t want to let go of what we had... But while I was getting my ass handed to me, I realized how much I was torturing myself by holding on. My life was on the line, and yet all I could think about was you. I mean, how fucked up is that?”

I swallowed hard as the image of Paul getting beat up formed in my mind. Thinking about it made my stomach ache.

“You chose him,” he said. “I don’t understand it, but I’d rather not know the reasons why.”